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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525326">Love Casts Out Fear</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweaters_and_Kneesocks/pseuds/Sweaters_and_Kneesocks'>Sweaters_and_Kneesocks</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adult Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angel Imagery, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Art History, Biblical Scripture References (Abrahamic Religions), Bisexual Eddie Kaspbrak, Eddie Kaspbrak Loves Richie Tozier, Fluff and Angst, Gay Disaster Richie Tozier, Gay Richie Tozier, Gen, I Love the Losers Club (IT), Internalized Homophobia, Kid Losers Club (IT), Losers Club (IT) Friendship, M/M, No Sex, Nothing explicit, Religion, Religious Imagery &amp; Symbolism, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, Richie Tozier-centric, Take that playlist and mix it with the 'Horny With Dark Religious Overtones' playlist., Teenage Losers Club (IT), Unreliable Narrator, You know that one spotify playist thats like 'is this sufjan stevens song gay or just about god'?, biblical imagery, demon imagery, except add egregious references to angels and paintings, fuckin just, he knew well enough, it's richie dealing with being gay but y'know it's the 80s, mentioned sex, no beta we die like men, oh boy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:48:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,740</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23525326</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweaters_and_Kneesocks/pseuds/Sweaters_and_Kneesocks</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie did the only rational thing a grade-schooler could come up with in response to being insulted by a being who had a superiority complex of biblical proportions. </p>
<p>Richie shoved Eddie off the swing. </p>
<p>Richie didn’t know whether Eddie’s high-pitched screech that signaled the Rapture or his teacher’s whistle pierced his ears more. </p>
<p>1 John 4:18<br/>There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>36</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Spring 1982</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Eddie, Richie decides, is fucking holy.</p>
<p>When an adolescent Richie spots Eddie swaying on a swing set, he thinks of little baby angels in his Mother's old Caravaggio prints. Richie took one more look at Eddie’s rosy cherub-putto cheeks, his skin seemingly unmarred by the outside world and decided ‘<em>Alright I need to make him fall.</em>'</p>
<p>With his goal decided, Richie left his station at his fort in the sandbox that his friend Bill had shoddily built and marched across the mulch-laden playground to the swing set with the angel atop one of its seats. Eddie looks up at him, big brown doe eyes squinted in confusion and small manicured hands grasped at a fanny-pack on his waist. Richie took note that while Eddie’s legs were near bare in his running shorts, there were no bandaids or scabs or hair or <em>fucking anything that would imply imperfection</em>. It pissed Richie off.</p>
<p>“Hey,” said Richie, fiddling with his glasses, “Why don’t you ever come play with everyone else?”</p>
<p>Eddie’s face screwed up into a small frown, “My Mommy says other kids are dirty, and I’m <em>far too delicate</em> to play with them.”</p>
<p>“That’s stupid. Does your Ma think your shit don’t stink like the rest of us?”</p>
<p>Eddie looked absolutely appalled that another child would swear in his presence, apparently, it bordered on blasphemy to Eddie’s sensibilities; though Richie didn't mind being a heretic. Eddie's fist clenched at his fanny-pack and began fumbling around with it to gain access to the inside. Eddie pulled out an inhaler, shook it and puffed it twice into his mouth; all with meticulous, well thought out movements. It conjured images of small ballerinas in a Dega painting, graceful movements frozen in time through the brush of an artist. It pissed Richie off.</p>
<p>“You know, you really shouldn’t swear! It’s impolite!”</p>
<p>And well, Richie did the only rational thing a grade-schooler could come up with in response to being insulted by a being who had a superiority complex of biblical proportions.</p>
<p>Richie shoved Eddie off the swing. Richie didn’t know whether Eddie’s high-pitched screech that signaled the Rapture or his teacher’s whistle pierced his ears more.</p>
<p>After a swift reprimand from his teacher Richie, along with a kid named Stanley Uris, was tasked with escorting Eddie to the nurse’s office so the nurse can clean up Eddie’s skinned knees and bandage them up. Stanley had the same cleanly air as Eddie, all manicured nails and clean polos, but without the divinity that Eddie seemed to possess. Maybe it was Stanley’s split lip or the fact his birdwatching guide was furrowed with use or maybe it was the grass stains that soiled the edges of his stark-white socks; Stanley just seemed tellurian.</p>
<p>The trek to the nurse’s office was awkwardly quiet. Richie watched as both a sniffling Eddie and an unruffled Stanley both walked with their backs stiff-straight, trying to appear as tall as they could. While Stan crammed his hands in his pockets, Eddie let his arms swing delicately at his sides. Richie could envision a set of thin golden wings sprouting out of Eddie’s back, lying dormant under Eddie’s shirt. Richie trailed behind them with slouching shoulders.</p>
<p>Stanley was the one who knocked on the Nurse's door politely, <em>pitter-pattering</em> against the wood while Eddie hid behind him while rubbing the tears out of his eyes with his knuckles.</p>
<p>Nurse Maxwell was a small stout young woman with long red hair that was always pulled back into a perfect ponytail; she reminded him of those old Venus paintings, just more clothed. She was always kind to Richie when he came in all bloody knuckles and bruises. Her face morphed into one of recognition when she spotted Eddie's form behind Stanley, and she smiled at the three of them. She pulled open the door all the way and they filed in.</p>
<p>Stanley and Richie sat on the plastic chairs that lined the wall while Eddie took a seat on the cot.</p>
<p>"So boys! What brings you to my office?" asked Nurse Maxwell.</p>
<p>"I pushed Eddie off the swing set!" Richie answered with far too much enthusiasm.</p>
<p>Nurse Maxwell looked at him in surprise while Stanley snickered next to him.</p>
<p>"Now Richie...why would you do that? Did Eddie do anything to you?"</p>
<p>Eddie squirmed under Nurse Maxwell's accusation. She began cleaning his knees of playground debris.</p>
<p>"No, Nurse Maxwell. I saw him on the swing set and he looked like one of those angels in those old paintings...and it made me mad."</p>
<p>Nurse Maxwell looked up from her application of Neosporin on Eddie's knees. Stanley was fucking cackling, his torso heaving with his laughter.</p>
<p>"You pushed him off the swing…" began Nurse Maxwell, "Because he was too angelic..?" her voice lilting in confusion.</p>
<p>"Yes, Ma'am."</p>
<p>Stanley fucking <em>lost it</em>, guffawing and letting out trills of high-pitched noises that sounded avian rather than human.</p>
<p>Eddie looked up at Nurse Maxwell hoping for an explanation. Nurse Maxwell ignored him and stared at Richie with stern eyes.</p>
<p>"Richie, dear. Have you seen a girl who reminds you of an angel?"</p>
<p>"No, Ma'am! Just Eddie, it's why he made me so mad."</p>
<p>Stanley had regained control of himself, only letting out muffled school-boy giggles. Nurse Maxwell began to unpackage the bandages. The room had gone quiet.</p>
<p>"Is...is that bad? It's not my fault!" Richie said, trying to fill the quiet, "If Eddie wasn't an angel we wouldn't even be here right now!”</p>
<p>Eddie’s ears and cheeks went rosy at the accusation but said nothing, like the meek angel that a God had trained him to be. Richie wondered if he rang a bell then Eddie’s dormant wings would begin to flutter, like that old movie that kids parroted around Christmastime.</p>
<p>"Ya know…" began Stanley, who was perched on a plastic chair meant for visitors, "I don't like paintings very much. I prefer photographs."</p>
<p>Richie made an involuntary indignant noise from the back of his throat.</p>
<p>"How can you not like paintings? They're just so…" Richie trailed off, not knowing how to describe the majesty he found in the art form with his juvenile vocabulary.</p>
<p>“I just don’t,” said Stan. Eddie demonstrated no opinion on the matter of paintings and stayed silent while Nurse Maxwell applied bright green bandages to his knees.</p>
<p>“Thank you, Nurse Maxwell,” said Eddie, tilting his head to the side to smile at her. His head positioned in front of the window with the afternoon sun streaming in <em>just right</em> and he looked like there was a halo of gold behind him, looking like a Byzantine mosaic to Richie. He watched him, awestruck.</p>
<p>"Not a problem Eddie! You and Stanley can run along," Nurse Maxwell rotated to face Richie, "Can you stay behind with me for a moment?"</p>
<p>Richie nodded and both Eddie and Stan hopped on the furniture they were sitting on and walked out. Richie gazed down at Eddie’s lime bandages, finally making Eddie look terrestrial.</p>
<p>When Richie looked back at Nurse Maxwell, her demeanor had changed. The ocean-blue eyes he had once known became icy. She sat back in her swivel-chair, her posture forbidding as she crossed her arms across her chest, staring back at Richie.</p>
<p>“Richie, I really need you to pay attention to what I’m about to say,” petitioned Nurse Maxwell.</p>
<p>Richie nodded and felt his blood run cold.</p>
<p>“You cannot talk about boys like that. If you say those things too loud strange men will find you and take advantage of you and your family might never get to see you again. Do I make myself clear, young man?”</p>
<p>Richie nodded, his ears were ringing.</p>
<p>“Okay, do your parents have an answering machine?’</p>
<p>Richie nodded.</p>
<p>“I’m gonna leave a message for your parents, you can go back to class.”</p>
<p>Richie nodded and slid out of the plastic visitor’s chair.</p>
<p>He felt numb and a little scared, but he wasn’t completely sure <em>why</em>. He had just said he thought Eddie was perfect, what was so wrong with that? Eddie was all ironed clothing, clean sneakers, and coiffed hair; of course, he was fucking perfect. So what, Richie wanted to rough him up a little? As long as he has Eddie’s attention, who cares how Richie attains it?</p>
<p>He meandered back to his first-grade classroom, feeling a deep pit of shame beginning its dig in his stomach and shackles of a burden he could not name clamping down on his wrists.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Summer 1989</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>heyo that homophobia tag is,,,kinda important now</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s in the dog days of the summer when Richie first begins to accept that he’s gay. He takes into account the report from the CDC that the number of AIDS-related cases in the good ole’ U.S.A. had reportedly reached one-hundred-thousand, the fact that teens his age hunt gay men for sport Down Under, the cryptic <em>Operation Hyacinth</em>, the fact that according to the INS’ poll homosexuals were the most hated group in Mother Russia, the extermination of homosexuals in Nazi Germany; he remembers the emaciated young men that appear in the news when news anchors report on ‘depraved lifestyles,’ the bright pink inverted triangle the Bowers’ gang spray-painted on his locker, his hometown’s disgruntled acceptance and thinly veiled violence towards the Tracker ‘brothers’ (who everyone knew weren’t actually related), and the object of his affection’s abhorrence to any and all things dirty.</p><p>Richie took all of this information into account, but the stark fear he felt didn’t outweigh the way he thought Eddie was hallowed. Sure maybe Eddie had developed quite a temper and a relatively rebellious streak against his mother, but that didn’t alter Richie’s view of sacrosanctity.</p><p>As the unforgiving sun streamed down onto his six friends in the quarry, Richie, with waterlogged glasses; still had his eyes trained on Eddie, who was on the shore meticulously applying sunscreen to evenly coat his entire body that wasn’t covered by his swim trunks.</p><p>Beverly splashed Richie from behind with enough force that he was sent underwater.</p><p>On his way down his glasses were abruptly taken by the ensuing waves, and when he opened his eyes underwater he felt like Monet’s lilies, his sight becoming flooded with a barrage of greens and blues. Richie let out a sigh, feeling the bubbles forming against his lips; they floated up, higher and higher until they finally breached the surface. Despite the lack of oxygen, he was feeling sublime.</p><p>His quiescence was interrupted by the surface tension of the water being broken with a booming crash beside him. A funnel of foamy water quickly dissipated to reveal a human form. Richie swam upwards and his vision was suddenly sun-dappled until he broke the surface. Whoever crashed next to him quickly followed suit, and joined Richie in the open air. Richie squinted at the form until he could make out recognizable features. It was Eddie. Well <em>of course</em> it was Eddie, no one else in the Loser’s Club was that short.</p><p>“Hey, Trashmouth,” said Eddie.</p><p>Richie homed in on the nickname like one of those surface-to-air missiles on a target his Father had such strong opinions on.</p><p>Eddie shoved a pair of glasses onto Richie’s chest.</p><p>“I watched you<em> carelessly</em> let these drop into open water, Richie! I know these are expensive! Be careful next time.”</p><p>Richie grabbed the offending object and swiftly fitted them on his face, the world becoming clear once more. The first thing that Richie registered was the sun giving Eddie’s wet skin a glittering and gold-leaf appearance. Slowly Eddie’s face came into focus as Richie adjusted to his prescription, while furrowed and fussy, Eddie was sunburnt across his nose and cheeks giving him the appearance of a Honthorst painting despite scheduled sunscreen applications; it was<em> so damn cute</em>.</p><p>Richie pinched both of his cheeks and squealed with the mantra of, “Cute, cute, cute!”</p><p>Eddie swatted away Richie’s hands and the other Losers began to pay attention to their spat. Even when Ben, Bill, and Mike tried to muffle their laughter behind coughs while Beverly and Stanley giggled and hooted at them openly, Richie didn’t mind. Richie<em> especially</em> didn’t mind when the extra attention made Eddie blush for real, and his cheeks absolutely conflagrated. Eddie was giving rococo portraits a run for their rouge.</p><p>Eddie tottered away towards Stanley, who had lured Eddie with the promise of seeing a turtle, with a shout of, “Don’t call me that!” directed at Richie, the water barely weighing him down during his trek. Richie could clearly envision glittering wings sprouting out of Eddie’s back and shaking out the water they collected from being submerged as Eddie shook his head from side to side in an attempt to dry faster.</p><p>And later when the Losers paired up to play Chicken, Richie may have opted to wade in water that reached his navel while Eddie straddled Bill’s shoulders, Beverly sat atop Ben and Stan perched on Mike. At least he doesn’t have to worry about what his physical reaction would be if Eddie sat on him with those olive-and-white color-block swim trunks.</p><p><em> Fucking nope</em>.</p><p>Richie dived underwater, trying to escape his intrusive thoughts, absentmindedly paying attention to the sounds of his friends crashing into the water a little ways away. Richie swam into the deeper parts of the quarry, minding his glasses. As he laid back and sunk further underwater he could see a blurry Eddie Kasprak swim directly above him, apparently he had already been knocked off by Beverly or Stanley. Richie raised his arm in an attempt to get Eddie’s attention, the water felt almost thick between his fingers despite the lazy current. Richie felt hopeless, trying to grasp an angel as a lowly sublunary, his arm being weighed down by impious shackles bound to his wrists. Eddie seemed to notice the movement below him. Eddie swam down a little to grab Richie’s pruned hand and didn’t make a move to lead Richie up to the surface. Just for a moment, both boys holding hands underwater, fearing nothing.</p><p>It was a heavenly ethereality.</p><p>Richie swam upwards while Eddie swam downwards, both clambering to meet, just desiring proximity. When the pair met up in the middle, they began to swim upwards towards the surface where there was oxygen both of their lungs yearned for, still hand in hand; remaining firm in their grasp.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>here's this bad boy,<br/>i like this one slightly better even though it's much shorter. i remember specifically crying while buffing up that first paragraph with some research, it my defense it was awful shit i had to relay from the perspective of a hyperfixated middle-schooler. anyways remember when you were like thirteen and any attention from your crush was interpreted as positive attention?? shit was wild. i hope i captured that at least a little.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Autumn 1996</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Something that's not in the tags!!!! Weed is referenced!!! It may or may not be because of the term "devil's lettuce".</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Maybe Richie should let his old flame for Eddie Kasprak burn out. Like yeah sure, they’re rooming together in some slummy part of Worcester after flying through their prerequisite classes, but that doesn’t mean anything. Anytime Eddie came home with anyone it made Richie as sickly as the Isenheim Altarpiece with its wings closed like sure Richie had stuck his dick in a few twinks too but never in their shared shitty-ass apartment.</p><p>He thought maybe sex would make this feeling go away. He thought wrong.</p><p>And if he heard the girl Eddie had ushered back into his room in the shoebox apartment moan like she was receiving benediction one more time, Richie was going to fucking scream. He had even turned up his stereo to drown it out but apparently, that meant being even less subtle about their activities.</p><p>Richie groaned and buried his head into his pillow. After little contemplation he grabbed his brick-of-a-cell-phone and called Beverly, knowing that the call going from Massachusetts to New York was gonna be a bit pricey because she got into fucking <em>Parsons</em> of all places.</p><p>She picked up on the third ring.</p><p>“Rich?” Her voice sounded a little breathy over the receiver.</p><p>“Hey Red, what’re you up to?”</p><p>“Uh, Ben’s visiting right now, he flew in from Texas.”</p><p>“Miss Marsh, you aren’t doing anything scandalous, now are you?”</p><p>“Well I mean, now I’m not.”</p><p>Richie cackled and said, “Shit dude, didn’t mean to cockblock. Bye Miss Marsh, love you!”</p><p>“Love you too, Richie. Ben sends his love.”</p><p>“Well, I mean I wouldn’t mind some Hanscom Lovin-”</p><p>Beverly broke out into giggles, “Bye, Rich!” and then she hung up.</p><p>Richie sighed and flopped back against his bed, maybe Stan would be up. Georgia had to be a couple of hours behind New York and it was only 1 AM there. He decided to call Stanley, who picked up on the first ring.</p><p>"Stan the Man!"</p><p>"Tolerated acquaintance."</p><p>“C’mon baby, you know you love me,” Richie sing-songed.</p><p>Stanley chuckled over the speaker, which brought Richie joy.</p><p>“So...Stan, what’re you up to on this fine Sunday morning? Er- Saturday night? What time is it over there?”</p><p>“Richie, we’re in the same time zone," Stan said monotonously.</p><p>“Ah fuck! Stan, I didn’t mean to keep you up-”</p><p>“Man, you’re fine. What’s up?”</p><p>Richie buried into his pillows, “It kinda...sucks to hear Eddie taking someone to pound-town and it not be me.”</p><p>Stanley huffed in annoyance, coming out as huffy static through the speaker, “Richie, can you not be gross for like, four seconds?”</p><p>“You know I can’t baby-”</p><p>“Hush. Rich, you’re listening to me, yeah?”</p><p>“You have all six parts of my two ears.”</p><p>“I’ll take that as a yes,” Stan paused, “Richie, you’ve been carrying a torch for this kid since I’ve known you. We’ve had this conversation a million different times in a million different ways, you need to talk to him.”</p><p>Richie stayed silent like a pillar of salt at that because fuck that noise.</p><p>“I fully realize that if you’re not going to take my advice at twelve, then you’re not going to take my advice at twenty. But you need to do it, for you, it’s been too long. If you keep this up you’re going to destroy yourself.”</p><p>Richie snorted, “Or I could let myself die inside completely. Fuckin’ Aye!”</p><p>“Richie.”</p><p>“Cocker Staniel.”</p><p>“Godamnit, Rich. Do not let Eddie kill you, it’ll kill him too. He is your best friend, that decade-long foundation will not crumble.”</p><p>"Aw, Stanny. You're my best friend."</p><p>"Richie, you practically worship him at the altar."</p><p>“Goodnight Stan," Richie said curtly.</p><p>“Goodnight Richie, stay safe.”</p><p>“You too.”</p><p>And if Richie blazed himself to high-heaven that night, no one needed to know.</p><p>He woke up to the smell of coffee with a blaring headache and cottonmouth the next morning, feeling otherwise sated. The events of last night were covered in a hazy blur, satisfying his need to bury fucking <em>everything</em>. He stretched, trying to loosen and straighten his limbs, trying to look less ramapithecus and at least a little more homoerectus, his posture had barred him from self-identifying as a homosapien a couple of years back.</p><p>He threw on a massive sweatshirt over his boxers, feeling that enough was covered up, and staggered into the tiny kitchen.</p><p>Eddie was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed against his chest, shirtless with sweatpants hanging low on slim hips. He had toned up over the years, running and lifting at his max capacity just to prove he could, that his body wasn't sickly and that he was able. Circular bruises dotted his neck and chest and his hair was all bedhead and tousled, sticking up at the sides of his head giving him two little horns. He looked downright <em>sinful</em> and Richie tried not to lose his self-control. Next to him, the coffee machine was sputtering out coffee, its strong scent of arabica lingering in the air between them.</p><p>Richie exhaled strongly and steeled himself against the pruriency of Eddie's appearance, he looked fucking debauched, Eddie looked up at the sound. Eddie was always fussy in the morning, so he said nothing as Richie sat at the tiny island in the middle of their kitchen.</p><p>"Is there enough for me, you and the lady of the night you brought back?"</p><p>Eddie groaned at the euphemism, far too tired for Richie's shit.</p><p>"Yes, Richie," Eddie's voice was gravely down at the bottom of his throat, coated in the drowsiness of the early morning.</p><p>Richie felt his face erupt into flames and gulped while Eddie stared him down with a violent sheen in his eyes. Richie tried to think of all the ways a coffee machine could be used as a weapon so he could be prepared when Eddie decided to put him out of his misery. The machine groaned and sputtered with one final hurrah and Eddie grabbed the pot and poured it into two mugs with little fanfare. When Eddie turned and walked off to his room with the mugs in hand, Richie let his eyes roam over the musculature of Eddie’s back and noted with dismay the crescent-moon indents along his deltoids. Richie turned toward the coffee machine and flipped it off as if the appliance was judging him for his leering, before pouring himself a cup of coffee.</p><p>Because Richie paid no mind to the mug’s temperature when the bitter caffeinated liquid made contact with his throat he immediately began to gag it up, trying to keep his throat unburnt.</p><p>“Richie,” Eddie called from his room, “What the fuck are you doing?”</p><p>Richie glared at the coffee machine.</p><p><em>Touché, motherfucker</em>.</p><p>“ ’M good Eds,” said Richie while rubbing the skin of his throat.</p><p>Eddie huffed and began walking back out of his room and back to Richie, the only warning Richie got was the muffled steps his socked feet made against the floor.</p><p>Eddie began rummaging through their cabinets, muttering something that sounded an awful lot like, <em>think before you drink jackass</em>, and pulled out a small lollipop.</p><p>“I bought these because I knew you wouldn’t take any medication any other way.” Eddie said, with commanding medical authority like he was Saint Cosmas and Saint Damien combined, “They’re lollipops for toddlers with sore throats, here.”</p><p>Richie reluctantly took the lollipop and jammed it down his gullet, feeling the filmy coat of sticky artificial sweeteners begin to cast his mouth.</p><p>“Fucking, careful ‘Chee! You’re gonna choke.”</p><p>“Oh Eddie, no,” Richie spoke around the lollipop, suppressing his gag reflex was a skill he learned incredibly early on in his sexual adventures, “Look.” Richie pushed the lollipop, stick and all into his mouth, letting the sweet rest in his throat.</p><p>Richie grinned down at Eddie, who was absolutely not smiling. He had a tiny frown and his eyebrows were furrowed but his face was bright red and the color had traveled to his ears, neck and chest. He looked flustered. The rosy color of his chest and his darkened brown eyes did...things to Richie. He absolutely needed to break the tension.</p><p>“Aw Eds, what’s wrong?” Richie bent down a bit to pinch Eddie’s cheek, “You ever dream of putting your lollipop down my throat?”</p><p>Richie hoped to whatever deity was up there that his braggadocio covered up anything that could be construed as genuine attraction because underneath the surface Richie’s body was flooding his system with icy stress hormones and he can hardly stop himself from shaking.</p><p>Eddie shoved Richie off, “Asshole! If the stick breaks in your throat, don’t come crying to me!”</p><p>And with that Eddie slinked off.</p><p>Relief flooded Richie’s sympathetic nervous system, adrenal glands finally giving the cortisol a fucking break. Maybe Stan was being incredibly literal about the whole dying thing because Richie didn’t know how long he could keep this up without having a heart attack.</p><p>Before long his throat became numb because of the coat of Benzocaine lining his pharynx and Richie was calmed down enough to nurse his bruised ego.</p><p><em> Get your shit together, Tozier</em>.</p><p>He finished off his lollipop and drank his scalding liquid, the temperature not meaning much to him anymore now that he was medicated. He made his way down the hallway to their shared bathroom, smiling to himself at Eddie’s meticulously organized side of the sink compared his vaguely controlled chaos on his own side. Richie stripped and stepped into the shower, bringing his toothbrush and toothpaste with him. Why the hell not? Two birds with one stone.</p><p>As Richie wrapped a towel around his waist someone knocked against the door.</p><p>“Gimme a second, Eds!” Richie called out.</p><p>“Uh..” the voice was distinctly feminine, “Alright..”</p><p>A cacophony of the word ‘fuck’ began to sound off in Richie’s head as he tightened the towel.</p><p>He took a deep breath and opened the door.</p><p>The girl only came up to Richie’s sternum. She was a pale little thing, clad in rounded glasses and an oversized sweater with a truly obnoxious zebra print. Her dark hair was piled atop her head in an approximation of what Richie could only speculate was a bun.</p><p>“You know…,” she started, “this kinda makes sense.” Richie said nothing but nodded, moving to let her in the bathroom.</p><p>The cacophony of ‘fucks’ was incredibly intent on providing a coda of its last raucous performance.</p><p>Richie hurried down the hallway making a beeline to his room and slammed the door behind him. He practically jumped into his polo and too-short-khakis combo for his stupid job at Blockbuster because there was no way in fucking hell was he gonna let his brain hope, or connect the dots, or <em>anything</em>. Richie knew how to deal with this, he’d been dealing with it since he hit puberty. He could cope. He laced up a pair of his beaten-to-hell high tops, jammed his cellphone in his pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter from his pillowcase and immediately began to light it with his shaking fingers. Whether he was shaking from the caffeine intake, or the fact that he felt the need to pull out his pack of smokes he kept secret from Eddie or the fact that the girl Eddie brought home<em> kinda fucking looked like him</em>; he didn’t know.</p><p>He just needed a minute. He huffed and puffed on his cigarette and thought of being anywhere but here. Richie pulled out his cellphone with the thought of, <em>Ben would know what the fuck to do</em>. So he smashed the buttons on the keypad and prayed Ben would pick up.</p><p>“Hello, this is Benjamin Hanscom speaking!”</p><p>“Benjamin!” Richie cackled, “You call yourself Benjamin over the phone? Ben that’s so cute-”</p><p>“Beep-Beep! We can’t waste our minutes over this, they’re expensive.”</p><p>“Right, right. So Benji, theoretically, just you know, maybe this happened to someone I know-”</p><p>“Spit it out, Rich.” “So maybe sorta the guy I might maybe like hooked up with someone who kinda had my whole thang goin’ on.”</p><p>“Thang..?”</p><p>“Style, groove, mojo, whatever!”</p><p>“Eddie fucked someone who looked like you?”</p><p>“I never said it was Eddie!”</p><p>“Richie...I love you, but you have gotten drunk many times and cried over, and I quote, ‘how pretty his fingers are,’ with me in the room.”</p><p>Richie stayed quiet at that.</p><p>“Richie, talk to him. If this girl really did look like you then you’ve got a bit of a chance.”</p><p>Richie, master of etiquette that he was, hung up the phone. He put out his cigarette on his window sill, stuffed his cellphone into his pocket once more and pushed up his glasses. He could do this. Just, go out and talk to him.</p><p>He opened his bedroom door only to see Eddie and the girl in the midst of ‘yeahs’ and ‘I’ll call you next weeks’. When she did finally leave, Eddie turned around and flinched back at the sight of Richie in his bedroom doorway.</p><p>“Uh..” Eddie eloquently stated, “She’s just...funny coincidence, right?”</p><p>“Are all the girls you fuck equivalent to me in drag?” Nice one Rich, really emotionally mature.</p><p>Eddie looked away, his halo of curls swaying with the movement, and he began to twist his fingers one by one, “Kinda?”</p><p>Richie did a fucking double-take.</p><p>“Holy shit dude!”</p><p>“Shut up, shut up,<em> shut up</em>!” Eddie rushed towards Richie and began to jab his fingers against Richie’s chest in a pitiful attempt to lessen his own embarrassment. His face became an inferno at the confession, he refused to look up at Richie’s eyes.</p><p>“No fucking way! I’ve had a crush on you since I was 12, you deserve to feel this embarrassment to make up for the torture you put me through during my teens.” There, he did it. Stan would be fucking proud, though he nearly took a decade to do it, the task came to fruition. A burden, chains from years of penance released his wrists and dissolved.</p><p>He was met with silence.</p><p>“Ahm fuck, I meant-”</p><p>“Me too.”</p><p>“Wha-”</p><p>“God, you dick, me too,” said Eddie resolutely.</p><p>“You can’t do that to me,” Richie said while backing up. This had to be some sick joke, Richie was the most flagellated motherfucker in a Bosch painting, all hellfire and elongated limbs. He could feel the blazing sand tearing and burning his skin that Dante so sharply described-</p><p>“Rich!”</p><p>“Eddie, I know I’m the funny man, ha-ha, but you can't fucking do this to me.” Richie fucking corrupted him, there was no <em>goddamn</em> way a fucking angel would fall for someone who was shackled so far down that he can’t even see the light.</p><p>“ ‘Chee, are you alright?” Eddie softly lifted his hand to cup Richie’s cheek, not minding the saltwater that was sticking to his skin, and Richie couldn’t stop himself from leaning into it and kissing his palm.</p><p>“Fucking hell…’Chee, I wanna date you and shit. Fucking hold hands or whatever.” Eddie grinned up at him, Richie felt more hot tears bubble over and leak out.</p><p>“Oh,” was all he could manage. How do you respond to all you’ve ever wanted telling you that you are enough for them?</p><p>“What do you mean, ‘oh’?”</p><p>“I’d like that too.”</p><p>Eddie leaned forward to kiss Richie, still softly grasping his cheek and jaw. When they connected, Richie felt whole. Eddie was slowly moving his lips against Richie’s and this is what his heaven would be. He had waited for this for so long, and though there were no fireworks, gilded harps were strumming a tune that only he and Eddie would know. It was perfect. Eddie finally pulled back and held onto Richie’s shoulders, looking up at him once more.</p><p>“Y’know...," Richie gestured down to his Blockbuster uniform, "I still have to work a shift?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this is the longest chapter but like,,,it feels the shortest to me. it's probably because it's R E A L L Y dialogue heavy. anyways,,in my head these men like refused to be vulnerable with each other, especially if richie reached out first,,so i made eddie take the leap of faith and y'know i think it went alright. i was trying to shoehorn in more art and religious references but it didnt really work given the context. anyways the nerds are officially together. one more chapter after this babey.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Winter 2003</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is just domesticity</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Richie was sprawled out on the loveseat thumbing through Dr. Strangelove when Eddie crashed through the door. He was all done-up-to-the-nines beneath his pea-coat and mittens that hid his formal work attire. Richie could hear him grumbling as he toed off his dress shoes and letting his keys clang in the dish next to the entryway, quickly shoving off and getting out of what Richie dubbed his “winter-gear”. </p><p>When Eddie did make his way to Richie he was in the process of untying his tie, fingers fumbling unsuccessfully at the Kelvin-knot. He looked incredibly flustered, stress-lines maring his skin as he worried his lip between his teeth. Richie dog-eared a page and got up from the loveseat, making his way to Eddie to release him from his tie prison. Richie cupped his hands over Eddie’s and began to untie the knot in languid movements. </p><p>Richie asked, “how was your day at work, baby?” </p><p>“Awful, I’m going to set fire to the next bank I see and no one can stop me.”</p><p>Richie finally worked the knot open, “And no jury will convict you.” </p><p>He handed the tie to Eddie, who promptly threw it over his shoulder. Eddie practically grappled Richie back onto the couch, burying his face into Richie’s worn graphic-tee. When Eddie was nestled comfortably atop Richie he carded his fingers through Eddie’s hair, freeing the strands from their gelled confinement. </p><p>“That bad?” </p><p>Eddie snaked his arms around Richie’s waist, “you are so lucky you don’t work an office job.”</p><p>“Yeah, but at least I get to see you in your little monkey-suit ready to take on the tycoons of FiDi.”</p><p>“We live nowhere near WallStreet,” Eddie said monotonously. </p><p>“They’ve got cash-money, they’ll take the commute just to see the best ass in the risk-assessment industry!”</p><p>“They’re too distracted by their hookers to pay me much mind.”</p><p>Richie, caught off-guard, cackled at Eddie’s riposte while holding him tightly so as not to jostle him too much. Richie began to stroke Eddie’s spine, trying to alleviate some of the anxiety Eddie’s job put him through. Even though Richie wasn’t a little kid anymore, when he ran his hands over Eddie’s scapulas he still expected to feel wings. Though now Richie knew Eddie was far from a perfect being, he turned out to be human after all. </p><p>“Y’know, when I was a wee lad, I thought you were an angel.” </p><p>Eddie sputtered out laughter, “W-what?”</p><p>“Yeah, you were this little goody-two-shoes kid and my only explanation for it was that you were an angel.” </p><p>Eddie hummed noncommittally, “I thought you were a menace, pushing me off swings and shit.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Richie chuckled, “I wanted to see you wear bandaids to make sure you could bleed.”</p><p>“You could’ve just asked.” </p><p>“And make myself look stupid in front of an angel? No way.” </p><p>“So your master plan was to skin my knees up to satisfy your weird theories?” </p><p>“In tiny-Richie’s defense, you were an adorable child!” </p><p>Eddie hummed in lieu of a reply and turned his head so his ear would be against Richie’s chest. Richie wondered if Eddie could hear the pounding of his heart, though he didn’t move. Eddie just got like this sometimes, needing to be held and Richie didn’t mind being the one doing the holding. He remembered a time where this would’ve thrown his endocrine system through a rollercoaster, gushing out stress hormones at the slightest jostle of the coaster’s cart. Now it was just one of the luxuries that came with dating Eddie Kasprak. </p><p>“Y’know we still have to cook dinner.” </p><p>“Order takeout or some shit, I just...don’t wanna deal with that right now.”</p><p>“Ooh, someone’s taking a step on the wild side. Do you want one of those quesadillas you fill with vegetables?” </p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Aye-aye captain!” </p><p>Richie awkwardly maneuvered his hand to his back pocket to grab his cellphone to call up the only Mexican restaurant that met up to Eddie’s standards. When Richie called the place up and recounted their order from pure muscle-memory, he could feel Eddie completely sag against his body, finally releasing his tensed muscles. Big business is a bitch, he guessed. Richie hung up and let his thick Nokia drop to the carpeted floor and wrapped his arm back around Eddie once more. There was no place he’d rather be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>the corona depression got me,,take this fluff as compensation,,idk maybe reddie wedding epilogue later bc they deserve it</p><p>this chapter is so short but i only feel a little bad about it, let the men be soft godamnit</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hey lads,<br/>this fic has taken me a bit over a month to plan and complete and fiddle, despite appearances.<br/>i know everyone who's read the book makes a zillion posts about eddie being allowed to be soft and stuff, as well as the whole richie is not pagliacci thing, but i wanted to go movie-verse route and make eddie fucking feral and throw some angst at my four-eyed friend. so yeah, if you want more book-canon compliance for their characterization, im half dabbling in a shark puppy fic bc this fandom has c o r r u p t e d me.<br/>aaa anyways the next couple chapters should be out within the week because i just need to fiddle with them to get them presentable. if you enjoyed this, hell yeah lemme thank you for accepting this weird fucking brain-child of mine. if you didnt, yeah i totally get it this ones a little fuckin weird. as always if you spot any mistakes, please sound off at me, i wanna fix them as bad as you do.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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